How We Fall

chapter 2

Marcus turned left onto the blacktop. He didn't say anything, and I didn't, either. By now we'd learned there just wasn't anything to say, and trying to find something that would help never did. 

We pulled up the long driveway to the house. It had a two-story brick front, but the rest was built into a hill. "Earth-sheltered," Aunt Shelly said, but my friends called it hobbit-style. I loved the stained wood and the dozen small places for hiding to read. Useful, since my parents and I shared the house with my aunt and uncle and their six kids. 

I climbed out of the truck. Marcus fiddled around with something in the truck bed, so I went on ahead of him, glancing back in spite of telling myself not to. After managing to find time to ourselves, it always jarred me a bit to come home. Readjusting my personal space to not include Marcus took me a minute. 

He jogged up the driveway. Like always, he caught the screen door before it banged behind me. 

"Sixty bucks, Mom." I dropped the cash on the counter. People said we looked alike, but I didn't have her smile or the hair. I'd seen her college pictures-frayed jean cutoffs, a bikini top, a guy-stopping smile. The same gorgeous, blonde waist-length braid she had now. 

I refused to do the braids. Braids make redheads look like Pippi Longstocking. 

Her giant chef's knife snicked on the cutting board. She was slicing zucchini while Simon & Garfunkel played from the kitchen sound system. "Oh, thank you. Can you whip the egg for these? I'm in a hurry." 

"Give me a second to wash my hands." I headed for the main-floor bathroom at the end of the hall. 

"I should do that, too." Marcus followed me. 

I turned the taps to the cool side of warm and pared the dirt from under my fingernails. Marcus hovered behind me. An inch over six feet tall, and not done growing. Aware he was watching me, I leaned back half a step to brush his chest with my shoulder. Teasing him wasn't fair, but I couldn't help myself. 

"Hey." He hooked a finger in one of the belt loops on my jean shorts and pulled me back another step. His hands settled on my waist, his body close to mine. 

I pulled his hands off me. "Not here," I whispered. Dad's office and my bedroom were the only rooms back here, but still. If we bent one rule, we'd break them all. 

"No one's around," he said, his brown eyes meeting mine in the mirror. 

His expression stopped me. His shoulders were too straight, his smile forced, his stance too casual. 

I almost never did this because it fell into the category of handholding and pet names, but because I didn't want him to look like that, I stood up on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. 

For a moment, he looked stunned, then a slow grin split his face. 

"What's that look for?" I asked. If it weren't so dangerous, I'd do that more often just to see him look like that. 

"I mean, it's not what I was hoping for, but I guess it'll do." He shoved his hands in his pockets, still grinning. 

That meant we were fine. I pulled away and continued scrubbing the dirt out of my nails, but his expression in the mirror caught me. "Later." I smiled. Marcus didn't mind me teasing him. He knew there would be later. 

He leaned against the bathroom wall, looking stern. "You really like playing hard to get, don't you?" 

"It's half the attraction." It wasn't. But I did enjoy it. 

Something creaked in the hall. My hand slipped on the faucet and Marcus stepped toward the doorway just as his dad walked past. Hot water scalded my hand and I yelped. Uncle Ward barely glanced at us and continued down the hall.